Nalvas

One such traveler was Elara, a stone-cutter from the low villages. She had lost her twin brother, Kael, to a rockslide seven winters past. She had never wept for him. Not once. Instead, she carved his face into every headstone she made for strangers, burying his name in other people’s grief.

A hello that had always been waiting.

The Nalvas smiled—Kael’s smile, but older, wiser, as if he had lived the seven years she had denied him. “That’s the answer,” it said. “That’s the toll.” nalvas